


In The Garden Where We Met

by werewolve



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Crowley, M/M, Set solely in Eden, Strangers to Lovers, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 02:31:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19347718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolve/pseuds/werewolve
Summary: In an alternate universe, the original sin is not committed, the world does not expand around Eden but rather Eden expands to fit the world, and Angels guard the Garden’s walls.In this universe no Angel has fallen, no Hell has been created, no Demon has been born.And two unlikely strangers meet.





	1. Plum?

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a sort of ‘multichapter’ fic, but I’m not at all very good at those. So it’s rather more... one medium length fic split up into many bite sized chunks.

Aziraphale, Angel of The Eastern Gate, he was unsure exactly what he was guarding, but he didn’t tend to ask questions. That wasn’t something Angels- or well, anybody for that matter, did. 

Behind the gate he guarded was the Garden of Eden, a thriving community of the People of Eden- Humans. 

It had begun with Adam and Eve, and had quickly grown to a population of a few hundred over the years. Every day the wall around the Garden was moved, it was now ten times greater than it had ever been. Getting from East to West would take a Human days. 

Four Angels were stationed at Eden: 

Uriel, of course, took the Northern Gate- the biggest of the four. 

Selaphiel manned the Southern Gate, an equally large structure that was more well concealed by the shrubbery inside of Eden. 

Aziraphale, as we know, was in charge of the Eastern Gate. 

And lastly, an Angel Aziraphale had never gotten to meet took charge of the Western Gate, whispers were heard that he had no name, and that his stationing was not reward- but rather punishment. 

This of course made the Angel curious. He knew he shouldn’t be, but what harm would it do to be curious about somebody who he’d likely never meet- right? 

Oh how he couldn’t be more wrong, you see each Angel mans a gate, and then their underling- usually a lesser Guardian Angel, takes over so that they may break to return to Heaven for a few moments or simply to wander. 

What Aziraphale could not have known, was that the nameless Angel’s break was at the same time as his, and that for the first time in perhaps a hundred years- the Guardian of The Western Gate was allowed to remain on Earth during his off duty hours. 

The Angel had been resting against a part of the wall, weaving together leaves as he had seen the Humans doing, to make a small basket. When from a height above him, a plum fell into his lap. 

Inspecting the fruit, he furrowed his brows, noting that the nearest plum tree was a fair ways out from where he was. And then-

“Hello!” 

A cheerful voice called down to him, and for the first time in his existence he worried he’d done his job wrong and let a Human get out. Instead, he looked up to see another Angel smiling down at him- a hand waving in a friendly manner. 

“Oh, hello, is this yours?” Aziraphale lifted the plum. 

“Nah, I have mine,” The Angel spread his wings, and Aziraphale was shocked to see that they were black. He’d never seen an Angel with black wings before. “Mind if I join you?”

It took the man a moment to collect himself, before he gave a swift shake of his head, “Not at all, do you mind if I ask a question?” 

“Is it about the wings?” 

Aziraphale nodded, watching as the Angel swooped down to lower himself gently into the sand beside him, “Yes. Quite. Did something happen to them?” 

“Nope. I just like them this way.” The Angel grinned, showing off a few feathers seemingly proudly. 

“Oh, well then I suppose that’s alright.” Aziraphale returned the smile, though raised a brow, “One more question?” 

“Careful, Boss Lady doesn’t like to many questions.” The companion teased, shaking his head, “Ask away.” 

“Who are you, exactly? I didn’t think anybody besides the Guardians were allowed to be on Earth.” 

“Oh but I am a Guardian.” The black winged Angel held out his hand for Aziraphale to shake, an almost serpentine glint behind his eyes, “Crowley. Guardian of the Western Gate.”


	2. Crawley.

It took Aziraphale a moment to gather his thoughts, stunned at the first words the Angel had said. He grabbed Crowley’s hand gently and shook it, “Well then. Aziraphale. Guardian of the Eastern Gate.” 

“Well look at us, opposite sides and all.” 

“Opposite sides? Are we not both Angels?”

“Of the Garden, Aziraphale,” Crowley rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall and taking a bite out of his plumb, “Opposite sides of the Garden.” 

Aziraphale’s lips formed a small ‘O’ shape, and he nodded. Realising that made far greater sense. It was then that he tentatively took a bite of his own plum. 

Crowley’s eyes seemed to focus on something just passed Aziraphale. 

“What’s that?” 

The Angel followed his gaze, over to the shining metal that poked out of the sand, and coughed a moment as he tried to swallow quickly, “Ah. Flaming Sword. Heaven issued weapon and all that. Don’t you have one?”

“No,” Crowley squinted, before shaking his head as though to shake the thought out, “The Western Gate is fairly quiet, out of the way.”

This was a lie, it was the most run down part of the wall, one of the worst spots. Crowley didn’t have a weapon because Heaven didn’t trust him with anything besides the limbs of his own body. Aziraphale didn’t know enough about the Western Front of Eden to question it. 

“Hm, not much of a punishment to work there then, is it?”

The Angel didn’t think much of his words, taking another small bite of the plum- beginning to quite enjoy it actually. 

Crowley however frowned. “Who told you it was punishment?” 

“Oh, it was just...” Aziraphale glanced over at his crow winged counterpart and was stunned to see him look not angry, but hurt, “... a rumour.” 

“Of course. Those spread fast in Heaven hm?” Crowley sighed, throwing his the pip of his plum to one side, “Well if you must know. It is punishment. I am being punished. I was previously being punished worse than I am now.” 

“But why? What on earth could you have done?”

“I don’t care much for ineffability.” 

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale nodded, a sharp intake of air at the realisation, “That will do it.” 

The other Angel merely hummed, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing up at the sky. Aziraphale soon followed suit, after neatly miracle-ing away the leftovers from his small gifted snack. There was a couple of birds circling overhead, what looked like two sparrows. Aziraphale smiled.

Beside him, Crowley had turned to watch the other Guardian, and found himself entranced by the soft curl of Aziraphale’s lips. 

His gaze was only pulled away when a sudden shadow formed over where he sat, and he turned to see his underling stood beside him. “Crawley, sir, your break is over.” 

“Crawley... but I thought?” 

Crowley quickly hushed Aziraphale, nodding and waving his underling off, “Right, I’ll be there soon.” 

As soon as the smaller Angel had left, Aziraphale brought up the same question, “Crawley?”

“My original name. Bit too squirmy if you ask me, I changed it.” 

“Oh.” Aziraphale gave a simple nod, having no reason to question this. He decided either name suited the other Angel quite well. “Well, I suppose I may see you again soon, Crowley?”

“Ah I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me, Angel.” 

And with that, before Aziraphale could even think to respond, Crowley was gone. Taken off back to his post. Leaving Aziraphale to bewilderedly return to his own.


	3. Mesopotamia, 3004 BC

Aziraphale stood inside the walls of Eden, which was, by this point, far easier than standing outside of them. 

Eden had grown exponentially over the years, as had it’s population. New things had begun happening, new species began emerging. More Angels were coming to visit. 

For the first time, the People of Eden were going to experience a natural disaster. It would wipe them out, all of them, but one family. Heaven was making quite a spectacle of it. After this, God would put up a ‘rain bow’, promise not to drown everybody again, and then start over. Like cutting off a chess game right before she was going to lose. 

Aziraphale watched the last planks be nailed to the boat, pity overcoming him for the confusion of the crowd behind him. And then he heard his name.

“Aziraphale.”

“Oh, Crowley.” 

“Funny business, isn’t it, the whole boat, packing two of everything onto an arc?”

The Angel’s nosed scrunched, glancing over at Crowley with a sorrowful expression, “Quite, but it’s all part of the Great Plan.” 

“What if the Great Plan isn’t all that great? What if we shouldn’t be following it, what if the Great Plan is actually that we should be trying to stop God?” Crowley raised a brow, rolling back one of his shoulders in a way that seemed almost snake-like. 

Aziraphale looked offended for a moment, a little gobsmacked, and then simply shook his head, “If that was the case you wouldn’t be being punished.”

“Hm.” Crowley leaned against the wood fence, “Suppose you’re right.”


	4. Golgotha, 33 AD

Crowley and Aziraphale watched on as the rising sun framed the horrid act of mankind. 

Strange creatures, humans, will take any excuse to turn on each other. 

“Be kind to each other.” Aziraphale almost seemed to whimper. “That’s all it took.” 

“That’s all they need nowadays.” 

“Animals.” 

“Oh no, no, Angel, animals don’t wipe out their own methodically and with big gospel torture devices.” Crowley shook his head, pushing a wisp of hair back behind his ear. “No, definitely not. They’re not animals. They’re machines. Clockwork. Acting in turn.” 

“You don’t seem to like them.” Aziraphale threw a confused look across his shoulder to his redhead friend. Yes, friend. By now that’s what they were. Crowley’s punishment was ongoing, but they saw one another when they could. 

“Oh no, I love them.” Crowley nodded, “Humanity. I love them. Disgusting as it is, it’s no worse than what the Almighty herself gets up to now is it?”

“I suppose not.” 

Aziraphale turned his attention back to the cross, wincing again as the last nail dug in and the whole thing was raised. 

Crowley seemed to rub his palm with his opposite thumb, “Gotta hurt.”


	5. Rome, 41 AD

Crowley ordered another drink, pushing the coins to pay for it silently towards the bartender. He’d been drinking for... six perhaps? Straight hours. He still wasn’t drunk. 

Behind him, the only figure in the room that was dressed in pure white seemed to have a moment of vocal recognition. 

“We meet again.” Aziraphale gave his signature soft smile, moving to sit beside Crowley at the bar. 

Crowley felt the Angel’s hand in his, and brought his knuckles to his lips to kiss them, “That we do. How is the East treating you?” 

“Well enough, no reason to be worried yet at least. The West?” 

“Busy as usual, nothing I can’t handle.” 

The taller Angel gave a grin, glancing over the rim of the dark glasses he wore. And Aziraphale might just have blushed because of it.


	6. The Kingdom of Wessex, 537 AD

“Hold here, there seems to be tracks up before us.”

Aziraphale raised a hand, halting the horses, and dismounted, kneeling to look at the trodden soil. His hand went to his sword, and he made his way off the trail towards a dense part of the forest. 

In front of him, without him hitting it, a branch snapped, “Who goes there?” 

“Aziraphale?” 

“Crowley? Is that you?” The Angel threw back the cloak of his armour, walking a little more to see a dark cloaked figure pulling down their hood, “Oh bloody heaven it is you!” 

“What are you doing here?”

“Well I’ve been asked to hunt down the Warlock that healed a woman of her blindness.”

“Ah right, well, hunt successful.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley put out his hands, the smaller Angel moving to bind them with rope. “You know they’ll have you hanged.” 

“And by morning, the body will have mysteriously vanished.” 

“You and your miracles.” 

“Hey, I /am/ an Angel.”


	7. Residence, London, 1601

“You know, I think he’d do far better if he walked across the stage dramatically. Sort of carrying his voice with him.” Aziraphale babbled excitedly. 

And Shakespeare, yes /the/ Shakespeare, nodded thoughtfully. Making note of it with his quill. 

Aziraphale drank wine, leaning back against the desk with a certain inkling that he’d done this too many times before. His shirt was unbuttoned down to his sternum, the frill collar he wore untied and hanging loosely around his neck. 

“What about a bear?” 

“A bear?” The Angel turned, raising a brow, and smiling softly, “In what way a bear?” 

“He could be chased by a bear.” 

“Hm, perhaps a little too much for this one, save that for later.” 

William nodded, pressing quill back to paper, as a young man knocked on the slightly ajar door. 

“Mr Fell, sir? Visitor downstairs.” 

“Oh?” He placed down the glass, pulling the frill collar shut and beginning to fix his messy state, “Well then, pardon me.” 

After another moment of fumbling to make himself look presentable, Aziraphale walked downstairs to be met with a man with red hair and a goatee. He couldn’t help but smile. 

Crowley smiled back at him.


	8. Paris, 1793

Aziraphale seemed to find himself in far too many predicaments likened to this one. 

Near death experiences just waiting to happen. 

Today, he sat on a stool, chained to the floor of a cell. Awaiting his own beheading. And beheading didn’t really sound very comfortable, plus he rather liked his body, he didn’t think he could get used to a new one. 

But his pleading badly in broken French was not boding well with the guards, and so he let out a sigh, closing his eyes and dropping his head out of fatigue. 

“And on this day, let it be known that I really just wanted crepes.” 

And then he felt a finger on his chin, and he inhaled sharply, assuming the worst. 

The face got close to his, so much so that he leaned back far enough to pull against his chains. A knee leant on the stool between his legs, and lips brushed his ear as they whispered, “Might I be of assistance, mon cherie?” 

Aziraphale’s eyes flew open, “Crowley?” 

The other Angel pulled back, straightened himself off, and as soon as Aziraphale was steady again, clicked to remove the chains from around his wrists, “That’s my name.” 

“You terrified me you oaf, I very much thought I was about to die.” 

“Dressed like that you might have.” 

“How did you do that? The click-y thing? I’ve never seen anybody but an Archangel do that.” 

Crowley’s eyes went wide, he shoved his hand into his pocket, “Practice.”

Thankfully his expression was concealed by his glasses, and Aziraphale was too busy attempting the movement himself to notice his reaction. So he quickly changed the subject.

“Still want those crepes?” 

“Lord of course.”


	9. St James' Park, London, 1862

“There isn’t one Angel, /Crowley/.” Aziraphale stood with furrowed brows, not daring meet Crowley’s eyes as he spoke. “Not one. With your name. No Crawley, Crowley. Nothing. So who are you, really?” 

“I’m Crowley, Zira, I’ve always been Crowley.”

The smaller Angel spun angrily, pointing at the taller man and hissing his words through his teeth, “Stop it! Stop lying!” 

“Angel...” 

“And don’t call me that!” He shook his head, biting back tears, “Don’t call me that like I’m something you’re not! Tell me who you are.” 

“Raphael.” Crowley’s voice was barely a whisper. Too quiet for mortal ears to pick up. Almost to quiet for an Angel’s ears. “My name is Raphael.” 

Aziraphale looked a ghostly pale, shaking his head, “Impossible I...” 

“You knew me?” The taller of the pair sighed, “Yes you would have. Aziraphale, Protector of Raphael or something, isn’t it?”

“I was trained to...” 

“And then you didn’t need to.” 

“Because Raphael died.” 

“No, I just changed.”


End file.
